


i think they're listening to us kiss

by greatdetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Repression, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatdetective/pseuds/greatdetective
Summary: John yawns and grins at Sherlock after catching his eye. Sherlock's stomach somersaults, and he considers going to the window and screaming."What's wrong Sherlock? You look... peaky."I'm so in love with you, it's making me sick, Sherlock considers saying."Probably just a bad day," is what he ends up saying.OR5 times Sherlock tried to tell John he loved him and 1 time John had to do it himself.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 109





	i think they're listening to us kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I looooove the 5+1 trope so I had to do a Johnlock one 'course.
> 
> This is only my second fic, so sorry if it's trash :(
> 
> Well whatever BON APPETIT ENJOY

**1**

John is in the kitchen. Sherlock tries desperately to focus on the case he's working on but he's drifting off, distracted by the sounds of John humming softly to himself and moving around the kitchen. He listens idly for a minute or two - maybe more, who knows? All he can hear is John in the kitchen, and honestly, Sherlock could probably say that John's humming is his favourite sound in the world.

The noise gets closer and leaves the kitchen, and Sherlock turns away hastily, dropping his notes in his hurry. He bends down to pick them up, ears slightly pink, and he hears a dull thump on his desk. He pops his head back up and sees John smiling down at him a hot mug of tea in his hand, and one presumably on Sherlock's desk.

"I made you some tea," he said helpfully as Sherlock gazed into his mug, trying not to think _too_ hard about kissing John, otherwise he might just do it.

"Thank- thank you," Sherlock stammers, and wants to crawl back under the desk for it.

"You were working really hard and I thought... well, you can see what I thought. It doesn't take a genius, which you certainly are." He laughs slightly and Sherlock almost says it.

"John, I really- I -" and he chickens out. Obviously.

"-I love this- _tea,_ this is some good- really nice tea. Thank you."

John looks at him a bit weird but doesn't do anything except smile softly at him. Sherlock is amazed his heart hasn't leaped out of his throat by now.

Stupid. Sentimental. But completely and utterly out of his control. 

He _hates_ it.

**2**

The next time, Sherlock decides to take a different approach. John likes flowers, sunflowers especially, so that's what Sherlock's going to buy.

He goes into the shop and buys the biggest bouquet he can find. The woman on the counter smiles widely at him.

"How angry is she?" she grins, handing him his receipt.

Sherlock smiles tightly and picks up the flowers.

"He's not. I just want him to know that I love him without explicitly saying it, because I'm terrified."

He turns around and leaves before she can react.

Back at the flat, Sherlock carefully places the flowers in a vase and sets them on their dinner table. They really do look gorgeous and they remind him massively of John. He nods, happy with his handiwork and decides to wait for John to come home.

When he finally does, he walks in and greets Sherlock, eyes locked on the flowers.

"Nice flowers!" John beams, and he looks sort of like a sunflower himself right now, Sherlock thinks, only more beautiful and smart and funny and sarcastic and...

"... It's really nice of you to get a decoration for the flat! I was beginning to think it looked a bit drab. This really lightens up the room a lot."

Sherlock stares at him. He opens his mouth.

_I don't care about the flat, I care about YOU! I got them because YOU love them and I love YOU!_

The words don't come out. He splutters for a second then swallows.

"Yes, I thought they did too. That's why I got them in the first place. Very colourful. Very... yellow."

It sounds very strange, and John opens his mouth as if to say so, then decides against it.

"Well, they look nice. Thanks!"

He pulls his coat off and steps out of the room. Sherlock waits until he's out of hearing distance, then facepalms, cheeks burning.

He's resorted to _facepalming._

**3**

They're on a case. Lestrade walks towards them, his hair messy and ruffled from the amount of times he's run his hands through them.

"Sherlock, the body's ripped to shreds! And the room's locked! No chance anyone went in or out! And the killer's threatening to do it again! You _need_ to figure this out! "

Sherlock pulls his phone out and starts tapping speedily.

"I'm _trying,_ " he mutters through gritted teeth. John smiles apologetically at Lestrade as he walks away, running his hands incessantly through his hair.

"What's taking you so long?" he whispers to him, annoyed. Sherlock had said as they left the flat that this case was simple, and he was only doing it because he owed Lestrade. They've been here for three hours now and Sherlock still hasn't managed to explain how it could've happened.

"Sorry, this case just caught me unawares. I could've sworn..." he trailed off, eyebrows knitting together as he saw someone coming near.

"Donovan," he breathed, unable to hide a note of disgust in his voice.

The woman came near and looked Sherlock up and down, eyebrow raised.

"So, the genius psychopath got anywhere yet?"

Sherlock looked coldly at her.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be? A different country, preferably?"

Donovan smiled tightly at him.

"Stop avoiding the question. Usually you're so _eager_ to explain to us lower beings what clever detective things you've done. Or are you stuck? Is that what this is?"

Sherlock glared at her.

"Oh, is it so hard to admit?" she laughed mockingly. "You think you're all smart, 'til you're not! Just admit it, freak-"

She's cut off by John coming forward menacingly and crossing his arms, inches away from her. He may be shorter than her, but he is an infinitely more intimidating presence.

"Listen here, Sally," John says, his voice a dagger poised over her throat. "I don't appreciate you calling my best friend a 'freak', is that understood? He's wonderful and smart, and a thousand times the person you'll ever be. You try to say otherwise, and I won't forget it. Okay? Fuck off."

Sally stares at him, jaw clenched, then gives Sherlock a final scathing look before turning her back on the two and striding away.

Sherlock thinks he might possibly die from being so in love. He wonders vaguely if he'll be the first, as John turns to him, his eyes soft with concern. 

"Sherlock, I don't know if you need me to say this but you are _not_ a freak, alright? Don't take that woman's shit to heart. "

After a few seconds silence where Sherlock wills his throat to work again, he coughs out, "Yes. Of course. "

John smiles at him and Sherlock's heart is beating so hard that he feels dizzy. John starts walking a bit farther away, motioning at Sherlock to follow, and Sherlock panics. If he doesn't say it now-

"John!" he calls, and John looks at him. A moment skips. Then another. Sherlock's bravado deserts him.

He can't do it.

"I'm coming," he says miserably, hating himself and his luck and John for being so hopelessly beautiful without knowing it.

**4**

To Sherlock's eternal credit, he manages to say it. But the universe probably hates him, because John doesn't hear it.

They're eating breakfast together, and John looks sleepy and soft as he sips his tea opposite of Sherlock. Sherlock knows he's staring but he honestly can't do anything about it. He's in too deep.

John yawns and grins at Sherlock after catching his eye. Sherlock's stomach somersaults, and he considers going to the window and screaming.

"What's wrong Sherlock? You look... peaky."

 _I'm so in love with you, it's making me sick,_ Sherlock considers saying.

"Probably just a bad day," is what he ends up saying.

John hums and brings his tea to his mouth. He looks so gorgeous, Sherlock's mouth takes a life of its own and the words are out before he knows it.

"Also, I love you."

John coughs, spraying tea everywhere, including on Sherlock. Sherlock feels slightly thrilled knowing that it's no longer in his hands. The words are out, free to do what they wish: cause mayhem, or create something wonderful-

"Sorry," John coughs, eyes watering. "That went the wrong way. Okay, ugh." He grabs a tissue and begins wiping the table down. "What were you saying, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's throat is burning and his eyes feel prickly. He feels like he was freed from his bonds for a glorious second, only to have heavier, more painful ones strapped on.

He ducks his head down. He doesn't want John to see him getting into a state.

"Nothing. Nothing important. It can wait. Or not. I don't know. It's not important though ," he rambles, mentally shoving any semblance of emotion into a box. He clears his throat and straightens up, to John looking at him worriedly.

" Sherlock, are you - are you okay? "

The box in Sherlock's head rattles. He ignores it.

"Yes John. Completely."

He gets up and leaves the table. John watches him.

**5**

"He loves you."

"No, he doesn't."

"He _does_ , Sherlock, I promise you. "

"Why would he, Molly? I'm not- he has... so much choice, why would he pick _me? "_

Molly gazes at Sherlock softly and puts a hand on his cheek. And Sherlock feels so trapped, so confused, he sighs and leans into her touch.

"I don't know what to do, Molly," he mumbles weakly, closing his eyes. "It's like torture. I hate it."

Molly strokes his cheek with her thumb. "You're the only one who can do anything about it, Sherlock. Maybe it's time you faced your fear."

She stands there, comforting him, and when Sherlock leaves her house eventually, he thinks maybe he can do it.

He catches a cab, and while sitting there, pulls out his phone and texts John.

...

Hello John.

I thought I ought to tell you something.

Important.

you left the toilet seat up? thanks but i found out already

the hard way

No, not that, but I did in fact put the seat down.

mmhmm

You can't 'mmhmm' me, John Watson.

mmhmm

well what was it you wanted to say then?

and where are you??

I was with Molly. Case.

what case you never told me

Confidential, unfortunately.

......okay and the other thing?? quick, i gotta go shopping

sherlock?

hey i'm waiting

SHERLOCK 

fine be like that

...

Later, Sherlock told John that his phone had run out of charge. It was nothing extremely important. He couldn't even remember what he was going to say. John raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

**\+ 1**

Sherlock had promised himself, _never again._ But here he is.

They are having a Christmas party. Molly, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Sherlock and John.

John goes to the kitchen to get snacks while Mrs Hudson amuses their guests with stories about her husband and his escapades. Sherlock makes a quick excuse and follows him.

"Here, let me help," he says, taking a couple of plates from John. Their fingers brush together, and Sherlock flinches. He's been repressing his feelings for months now, but being alone with John in a room in the soft candlelight as fairy lights twinkle around them is too much.

"Sherlock," says John at the same time as Sherlock says "John. "

John blinks. "You go first."

"No, you can go. "

"Okay." John swallows and his eyes flick from Sherlock's eyes to his lips. 

It is extremely distracting.

"Sherlock, you've been so distant from me these last few months. What's the matter? Have I upset you? "

Sherlock feels terrible, his insides clenching at the thought that he'd been making John feel bad without knowing it.

"No! Of course not, John, how could you even think that? Nothing you'd ever do could upset me! "

John looks up at him in surprise and they both simultaneously realise how close they are too each other. Sherlock's chest feels like jelly. He realises helplessly that John's eyes are just ever so slightly different colours, both beautiful and cool and mysterious and...

"I need to admit something to you, Sherlock, " John says, and his eyes once again flick down to Sherlock's lips. He looks back up to Sherlock, and the adoration in his face and his smile almost make Sherlock's knees give.

"I think I'm in love with you. Really, properly in love."

Sherlock has been repressing his emotions for too long, because the second he hears the l-word, he's grabbed John by the front of his shirt and pulled their lips together.

John freezes against him for a second, then melts into the embrace, his hand coming up and nestling into Sherlock hair, pressing their lips together tighter. They explore this new territory, humming against each other and moving around, trying to find the position that will satisfy their hunger for each other most. Their tongues dip in the other's mouth, tasting each other, and Sherlock would give up all the foods in the world to keep tasting John's mouth forever.

They separate eventually, panting, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me you felt that way as well?!" says John, as soon as he's got his breath back.

"I thought- I was scared you wouldn't love me back! "

John stares at him, then pulls him in again, and they kiss more gently this time, soft, chaste kisses pressed on the other's lips. Nothing else was needed at the moment.

"Well- I do. I love you, " said John, almost shyly.

If what he'd been feeling before was like losing chains that had held him captive for years, this was like sprouting wings and taking to the sky.

"I love you too," whispered Sherlock, the words feeling too delicate and great to be said aloud. John smiled at him and Sherlock was thrilled to remember that he got to feel that smile now.

So he kissed John again. And again. Until their lips were pink and sticky, and their expressions gooey and joyful. Until Sherlock noticed that the room right next to them was completely silent.

"Have- have they been listening to us this entire time?! " he whispered to John, his cheeks going pinker than before, if possible.

"Let them," John whispered back, and drew Sherlock in for another kiss, making it as loud and wet-sounding as possible, even throwing in a couple of smack noises in the middle.

He pulled back, gazing at Sherlock, love filling every crevice of his face.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes."

"I love you too, John Watson."

**Author's Note:**

> if ya liked it plz consider leaving kudos, tenk youuuu
> 
> i love the 5+1 trope, if anyone knows any good Johnlock ones, chuck em in the comments for meee thankssss
> 
> Sorry if i made any mistakes, spelling or grammar or whatever, i was rereading this at 11pm so i may not have caught everything


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